Breakaway
by Issue42
Summary: What started as a simple Torch assignment quickly evolves into something bigger. To metropolis and beyond! Chlark
1. A Lesson in Astronomy

_Disclaimer:_ I have nothing witty to say, except that if these characters were mine, I wouldn't be a poor college student.  
  
_Acknowledgement:_ Edited by Doranwen, my beta. No, not the Siamese fighting fish.  
  


**Chapter 1**

  
  
_"From earliest times, humankind has noticed flurries of meteors that seemed to emanate from particular points in the sky at particular times of the year. These flurries, now called meteor showers, are produced by small fragments of cosmic debris entering the earth's atmosphere at extremely high speed. Each time a comet swings by the Sun, it produces large amounts of small particles which will eventually spread out along the entire orbit of the comet to form a meteoroid "stream." If the Earth's orbit and the comet's orbit intersect at some point, then the Earth will pass through this stream for a few days at roughly the same time each year, producing a meteor shower.  
Because meteor shower particles are all traveling in parallel paths, and at the same velocity, they will all appear to radiate from a single point in the sky to an observer below. This radiant point is caused by the effect of perspective similar to railroad tracks converging at a single vanishing point on the horizon when viewed from the middle of the tracks." **_  
  
"Hmmm. What else?" Clark stuck the paper back in its folder and set it on the table next to his telescope. Making some fine adjustments to the lens, he leaned forward and searched the sky again. "Let's see, Orion, Pegasus, Taurus, Argo . . ."  
  
"Clark, what are you doing?"  
  
Clark jumped and half knocked over his telescope. "Sorry, I didn't know anyone was up here." It was Lex, in another famous surprise appearance.  
  
"I just came by to drop these off. You asked for them, remember?"  
  
"Oh yeah, I'd forgotten about that. I thought I asked you about those two weeks ago?"  
  
"You did, but I just got around to it." Lex handed him two neatly folded copies of the Daily Planet. "These are both dated October 11, 1989. Two copies . . . interesting."  
  
"They're for a piece I'm working on. Deadline's Monday." Clark grinned and stuffed them into his packed folder.  
  
"You sure those will fit in there Clark?" Lex laughed and walked towards the window. "Mind if I take a look?"  
  
"Sure, no problem. Let me fix it for you." Clark started for the tripod but Lex interrupted him mid stride.  
  
"Don't worry about it. I'm something of an astronomer myself." He smiled as he squinted through the eyepiece.  
  
Lex was a mystery, much like himself. Clark could never tell what he was thinking. They made a motley pair, shrewd billionaire and Kansas farm boy.  
  
"The constellation figures of the northern hemisphere are over 2000 years old. Did you know that?"  
  
"No, I'll put it in my report. Chloe will love it." _What does that have to do with anything?_  
  
Lex moved the lens over a few inches. "There it is. Magnificent." He smiled and paused to admire the view.  
  
Clark shifted his weight and began to study an interesting crack by his shoe.  
  
"Ancient poets identified the Milky Way as the 'road of the gods.'" Lex turned his head and waited for a response.  
  
Clark looked up and realized Lex had been staring at him for several seconds. He tugged at the edge of his flannel.  
  
Lex went on, "The Universe is a big place, but meteors manage to hit the earth anyways. No small feat; anything that survives a trip through the Milky Way deserves a place in the hall of flames."  
  
Not sure what to think, Clark shrugged and bent his paper clip into an S.  
  
"Well, since it looks like you're busy, I better get going. I have a meeting in Metropolis in the morning. Thanks for the chat." Lex started for the stairs, paused at the top, and turned again. "Oh, and good luck with your report."  
  
Clark turned the folder upside down and stuffed the paper clip in his pocket. "I'll need it. Thanks for the papers."  
  
"See you later, Clark."  
  
Lex disappeared down the steps and Clark refocused his gaze out the window into the night sky. Something was gnawing at the edge of his mind.  
  
_Yeah, see you later, Lex._ Why was he so curious all the time? It was hard enough keeping things from Lana, his childhood crush, and Chloe, his snarky sidekick. Actually, he was more like _her_ sidekick. Clark was more than happy to indulge that notion. Thank goodness Pete knew. Pete had been his best friend since grade school. It was nice to have someone to confide in. He hadn't always been himself around Pete, but they had worked things out.  
  
Folder in hand, Clark plopped down on the couch and threw his feet on the table. _Hmmm, red-—my favorite color._ He carefully withdrew one of the old newspapers from his brightly colored folder and opened it to Section C.  
  
_It_ would _be in section C._ The title was halfway down the page in smallish block print. Meteor shower hits rural town, Smallville, killing 50. _Hmm, someone had a flair for dramatic understatements. Too bad this piece wasn't worth a two week wait. What kind of reporters did they have working for them anyway?_  
  
Less than amused, he started sifting through another pile of useless information. _Just great; I'm never going to get this finished tonight. Maybe Chloe can help me with it tomorrow._ Fingering the paper clip in his pocket, Clark recounted the cause of his dilemma.  
  
_"Clark, I'm completely swamped. Could you please cover the meteor shower? It doesn't have to be anything huge, just a recap for the Torch? The anniversary of the shower's two weeks from yesterday."_ She always gave him that look when she wanted him to do something. Half pleading, half "you-better-not-say-no-or-I'm-going-to-eat-your-piece-of-pizza" look. _"Come on . . . please?"_ How could he say no?  
  
Clark tossed the folder back on the table. Unclipped papers flew out and settled to the ground. _Tomorrow's Sunday . . . tomorrow's Sunday! No school tomorrow. Just great, what am I going to do now?_ Clark stumbled around the room trying to make sense of his scattered documents. There was the red file, but where was the blue file? Or for that matter, the black file? So much for the color coding idea. He managed to lose them anyway. _Thanks for the stroke of genius, Chloe, but I must be blind. Now I have_ three _different piles of misplaced stuff. Where could they_ be? Clark was pulling cushions off the sofa when he heard a familiar voice.  
  
"Looking for these, Clark?" It was Chloe. She was standing triumphantly at the bottom of the stairs, folders in hand.  
  
"How did you find those? I've been looking all over." Clark trotted down the stairs and snatched them up. "Have you been hiding them?"  
  
Chloe rolled her eyes and fished through her handbag for her box of Altoids. "Want one?"  
  
"Uh, sure, thanks."  
  
_Sheesh, that boy could be so scatter-brained sometimes. He'd handed them over earlier that week, so he_ wouldn't _lose them._  
  
"I was just going to call you."  
  
_Right._ "Clark, please tell me you finished it? You finished it right, Clark?"  
  
He winced.  
  
"Clark, you didn't." Chloe was beside herself. "I can't believe it. You had like two weeks on this! How could you leave it to the last minute?"  
  
"I've been working on it."  
  
_Like you've worked on your comebacks._  
  
"How come you hid my folders?"  
  
_Unbelievable._ "Clark, why would I hide your folders? You gave them to me the other day. _Remember?"_  
  
"Huh . . . Oh yeah! Oops." _I'm such an idiot._  
  
Chloe shrugged it off. It was just another detail in the mystery known as "Clark Kent." She started through her mental checklist of "Cloxymorons." _Never there when you want him, always there when you need him . . . simple, yet complicated . . ._  
  
"Chloe, I don't think the color coding really helps. You might as well get red folders from now on."  
  
"Why red?" Chloe was in the mood for pathetic explanations. They amused her.  
  
"It's a good color."  
  
_Uh huh—-just what I thought._ Chloe glanced nonchalantly at her wrist. "Ahhk!"  
  
"If you feel that strongly about it, we could go with blue."  
  
She was late for an engagement with Dr. Kane, a preternaturally wealthy and very influential research director in Metropolis. She had pulled strings for months to get an interview, and wasn't about to miss it on account of Clark's 'issues.' "I've got to go. Can we finish this conversation tomorrow?"  
  
Clark made a sweeping bow. "Anything for you, Miss Sullivan." It was too much cheese on the cracker for Chloe. He received a prompt thwack in the head with her bag, and fell to the floor, pretending to be unconscious.  
  
"Knock it off, Clark. Don't pretend like that hurt. I'm being serious. You've got to work on this while I'm gone. Promise me you will?"  
  
Clark raised his hand from the floor where he was lying. "I swear to finish the article, the whole article, and nothing but the article."  
  
Chloe could've killed him. "That's it. I'm out of here. Somebody's had a little too much coffee today. I'll come back when the drug's worn off." She climbed into her VW, avoiding the door jam just in time.  
  
Clark picked himself up and leaned against the barn door while the dust swirled up behind the retreating Bug. A few cows perked up as she sped by, but returned to grazing soon after, uninterested.  
  
"Claaark, dinner's getting cold." His mother was a wonderful cook, but heaven forbid it sit too long.  
  
"Coming, I'll be there in a second." And in a second, he was.  
  
  
_** Article gleaned from Wikipedia, the free online encyclopedia created by user contributions._  
  
A/N: This chapter took me about a week to finish. The next one will probably take at least as long. Please be patient, and no flames, thanks!  
  
TBC in chapter 2 


	2. The Whole Truth

A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers. I estimate this story to be about 18 chapters long, so stay tuned.

Chapter 2

_Drat, nothing but static. _Chloe attempted to stay calm. _Right, what kind of station _would _buy radio space in the middle of __Kansas?_

"…SM country, bringing you the latest and greatest from the 80's."

_Just great._She turned the dial a bit more._ I bet I could get a signal if there were meteor rocks in the backseat. _102.7, a city-based station, struggled to surface.

"Come on, pleeease."

_"…Could've been a small town… and when the rain would… I'd just stare… window."_

"Nooo. Arggh." _I've had it up to _here_ with Smallville._

She gave the dash a dirty look and reached under the seat for her collection of CDs.

"Eww, what are these?" _Oh, wait, they must be from that bag of M&M's __Clark__ spilled last week. _"And a sock?" She knew they'd escaped from the hamper somehow, but this was pure desperation. She could see the headlines now "Sock exposed while attempting daring escape to city." _I hope this isn't the best I can come up with to keep myself entertained. Otherwise, this is going to be a _very_ long trip. _"Metropolis, here I come!"__

"Ouch, that's hot." Martha Kent flung a piece of hot bread in the general direction of her plate. It crashed mid-flight atop a steaming pile of baked potatoes. "Oh, dear."

Clark sat down long enough to realize he didn't even have a plate.

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry, I forgot to set a place for you."

"Unless you've stashed the dishes in a lead cabinet somewhere, I'm pretty sure I can find one myself."

"It just that you've been gone so much lately . . . and I--"

"Mom, believe me, its okay." He sat down again, plate in hand.

"Your mother's right, son." Jonathan Kent wiped a splotch of grease off his thumb. "We hardly see you any more."

Clark swallowed and rolled a pile of peas onto the empty surface in front of him.

"Sweetheart, isn't there any way to cut back?" Martha smoothed a napkin across her lap.

"I've got a deadline coming up."

"Clark, there are chores to do, regardless of what is going on. You know we've let this slide in the past, but you're needed at home." Jonathan was serious.

Clark stuffed another piece of bread in his mouth. "I know. I'll make it up."

"Can you make it up _this_ week?"

Clark stopped chewing.

"…because your mother and I are planning a trip out of town."

"You--you're leaving?" A crumb flew out.

His mother gave him the "Clark-we-may-have-raised-you-on-a-farm" look.

"Sorry." He resumed chewing.

"We're going to visit your mom's cousins in Vermont. We'll only be gone about a week."

Clark remembered the last time they'd left him alone with the house. Not a fond memory. The entire school had shown up at his party. If only his parents hadn't come back early.

"Well, and it's just been so long since we've _been_ anywhere." Martha smiled and shrugged.

"We need you to run the farm while we're gone. Can we count on you, son?"

"Uh, sure, dad. You know me--Mr. Responsible." Clark grinned sheepishly.

"You're sure you can handle this?"Jonathan had faith in Clark. He knew his son wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

He speared the last two peas and stared at them intently. "No problem."

"Clark, stop playing with your food." Martha was bound and determined to maintain a civilized household.

"Look Ma, burnt peas!" They were still smoldering, but he stuffed them in his mouth anyways. They reminded him, vaguely, of little flaming marshmallows.

Martha sighed and looked over at her husband. He had become re-involved with the potato on his plate. _Boys, they're all alike_. She smiled to herself.


	3. The Interview

  


**Chapter 3**

"259, 301 . . .Ah, here we go: Suite #303." Chloe ran a last minute check. "Okay, I've got my notes, an extra pencil, and . . .wait a sec. My keys!" She rifled through her bag. _Don't be in the trunk. Damn, that'd be the fourth time this month. If I have to call Clark again . . ._

A voice from behind interrupted her thoughts. "You don't need keys to get in there, the door's unlocked."

Chloe jerked around startled. "Huh?"

He was young; an intern by the looks of it. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were bloodshot. Either he was seriously sleep deprived or his contacts had been left in way too long.

"The keys in your hand, they won't work anyways."

She looked down. A familiar ring of keys dangled from her index finger. "Right." Embarrassed, Chloe shoved them back in her purse.

He pushed the sleeves of his lab coat above his elbows and reached for the handle. Insomnia boy forced a smile as he scurried through the doorway. "If you'll excuse me, Ms. . . ."

"Chloe, I mean, Sullivan. Chloe Sullivan." _I should join Spastics Anonymous._

"Right, Ms. Sullivan."

She stood outside, not sure whether to charge in, or wait for the dust to settle. Curiosity overcame her uncertainty, and she stepped inside the door. Chloe surveyed the scene. There were at least two rooms. In the first sat an older woman, mid-forties. She was typing furiously. The name plate said, "Grace Kingsley." _Kingsley?_ She looked more like a Lee than a Kingsley. _Kingsley must be her married name. Not that it's any of my business . . ._

Grace looked up from her typing. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, I'm here to see Dr. Kane? We had an appointment at 3:00."

"Sure, let me check the roster." She knew how to type. Chloe could give her that. She studied her fingernails. They were uneven and two had broken off. The price paid for helping around the house, not to mention file diving at the Torch. She had to hand it to Grace. Her nails were long and decorated with tiny rhinestones. _Only a secretary._

"Oh yes, here you are." She pointed at a spot on the screen. "Chloe Sullivan. Well, have a seat. Mr. Sparks will be out in just minute."

_So Sparks is his name; No doubt a devoted coffee-pouring, paper-pushing expert by now._ The door to his office was open, and she could hear pieces of the conversation as it wafted out.

"Test R7-50 is ready for commencement as scheduled. We should be underway within the hour, sir."

"Good. Keep me posted on your progress."

"Anything else?"

"No, that'll be all. You know where to contact me if there is any . . . problem."

Chloe shuddered. It was innocent enough, but there was something sinister there. It lurked just under the surface and she couldn't pin it down. This, whatever it was, had nothing to do with coffee.

"Hello? Is this the Kent residence?"

"Whis isth the Ent's." The voice sounded vaguely familiar.

"Hey, this is Pete, uh, is everything all right?"

"Hey Pete, ith's me!"

Pete was ecstatic. "Hey Clark, you sounded different, I didn't recognize you. That's not peanut butter you're eating, is it?"

"Yeah, how'd you guess?"

"C'mon Clark. This is Pete we're talking about. I know _everything_. And _that_ is gross."

"What? It's good." He threw an empty jar in the trash and headed for a box of cereal. There was a moment of silence; Pete could hear cupboard doors being opened and closed and the faint rustling of plastic wrapping.

"Hey Clark, not to change the subject or anything, but did Lana ever do that France thing?"

"Yeah, Pete, she left last week. I thought you knew already."

"With all that's been going on, I figured she put it off. Who's running the Talon and all?"

Clark scratched the back of his collar. "Nobody now. She signed over the papers to Lex last week."

"Is he going to sell it?"

"Don't know. Some weird guy's interested though. Wants to turn it into a burrito hut I guess. Bob's Tiki Tacos, or something." Clark imagined Pete's look of disgust.

"I'm going to miss the coffee," Clark sighed as he glanced at the tangled phone cord. _It would._

"You and Chloe need to stop it with the coffee. That stuff's bad for your health. I'm serious man, it's not normal to be hyped like that."

"Only Chloe can blame it on the coffee. Caffeine doesn't have an effect on me."

Silence.

"C'mon Pete, who's side are you on?"

"Clark, I'd love to tell you this is about sides. Truth is, it's about cold hard facts." He laughed. "When have I ever seen you normal on java?"

Clark caved. "Okay, so maybe it affects me a _little_. Speaking of Chloe, she left town today."

"Out of town?"

"Yeah, she left for Metropolis several hours ago; said she had an important interview."

"Did she say with _who_? With all this trial business going on and Chloe being the key witness..."

"She didn't say, but this isn't exactly her first interview in Metropolis Pete."

"I know, just keep an eye on her Clark, ok?"

"I have been." It was easier said than done.

"Oh, dinner's ready. I should go." Pete could hear pots clanging in the background. "Hey, it was good talking to you."

"Yeah, talk to you later, Pete."

Clark hung up the phone and sat down. With a heavy heart, he set aside his second jar of peanut butter. _Only one left. I'll have to save this for later._

She glanced at his shoes; Black Armani, no tassels. He had good taste in shoes, at least. She couldn't say much for the rest of him. The tweed jacket and limey tie were killing her. Overlooking the visual disturbance, Chloe tried to focus on the facts. _Nobody_ got interviews with Thaddeus Kane. Not even the high and mighty Daily Planet reporters.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Sullivan, what was your question again?" He removed his glasses and began to clean them with his tie. A man of his age and position wasn't often blessed with such company and it was . . . distracting to say the least.

"Uh, I haven't asked one yet." She tried to hide her confusion. _Is this guy for real?_

"Yes, of course. Well, let's have her then."

Chloe pulled out her notepad. "Your lab owns and operates the largest Scanning Electron Microscope in the Midwest. I understand you're also formulating a new form of computerized tomography?" _How lame._

He took it in stride. "Yes, that's correct. We call it the CT Five, capable of scanning individual neurons, giving us the ability to picture and isolate different functions of the brain like never before."

_Whoa, that went way over my head. Just write it down, Chloe. You can look it up later._ She pressed him with another generic question. "I understand your lab is _the_ largest, most profitable, analytical laboratory in Metropolis. How do you feel this affects small business?" Small business? Come on, Sullivan. You can do better than that. He took it in stride.

"It's a simple matter of supply and demand, Ms. Sullivan. I believe that corporations seek out top quality work and appreciate our speed and precision at a level small businesses can only dream of. Also . . ." The red call waiting button began to blink. Annoyed, he punched it down. "Make it short, I have company."

A voice crackled over the intercom. "You have a call on line one." It continued in the wake of silence. "A Lee Jamison from the Daily Planet?"

Chloe sat waiting.

"He wants to confirm the indictment of a former employee, some computer junkie named J.C. Boyd."

Kane turned away from Chloe and grimaced out the window. He could vaguely see the outlines of a globe far below. _When would the Daily Planet learn to leave well enough alone?_ "I'm in the middle of a very important meeting, Grace. Take a message and tell him I'll get back to him later."

There was silence and Dr. Kane swiveled his chair again to face Chloe. "Sorry for the . . . interruption. Go on."

"Would you mind if I asked you a few personal questions?"

"Normally, I would say no." He said nothing further, but sat staring intently.

She smiled nervously. "Right. Okay . . . let's see here."

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

Chloe barreled forward. "So, how did you get interested in what you're doing now?"

"I don't know if it was as much as being interested, as much as what I've always wanted to do. The challenge of it all, you know." There was an underlying tone to his voice. _Is he patronizing me? Maybe it's time to sound the retreat and mix up a new batch of questions. This interview is turning into splat surprise._

"Hmmm." She wrote furiously none the less. Anything was better than nothing. She looked up briefly to ask the next question.

"Did you see yourself as founder and CEO for the largest analytical laboratory in the State?"

He thought for a minute before responding. "I think everyone has fantasies at some point of being someone else's hero."

There was another long pause. Chloe looked up from her notepad, pen poised in mid-air. _So he thinks he's somebody's hero? What a braincase._

"Do you have any dreams for the future? _An innocent question should reciprocate with an equally innocent response, right?_

"Dreams, Ms. Sullivan, everybody has dreams. What I have is a vision: To see beyond my years, to venture farther than has ever been imagined, to bring this modern age into an epiphany of existence. What I have in store . . . well, that should be saved for another little chat. Wouldn't you agree, Ms. Sullivan?"

Dumbfounded, she nodded her head obediently. Was she right in coming? There was a sudden and irresistible urge to run out the door. Instead, she smiled and continued on. It was the professional thing to do. "I agree completely, Dr. Kane." She turned a new leaf in her notepad. _If you can do this Chloe, you can do anything._


	4. Escape

**

Chapter 4

**

"Attention all personal! Security breach on sublevel 10. I repeat, there has been a security breach on sublevel 10. Please report to your stations." The PA was loud enough to rattle donuts off a shelf three blocks down.

Somewhere on sublevel 5, in the back of the maintenance closet, a pair of brown eyes glared at a speaker. Everything was louder in the sublevels. It was impossible to hear oneself think. That in itself was imperative. This was supposed to be a quick escape. No one should have noticed he was missing for at least another couple hours. It must have been Sparks. Mr. Toby Sparks . . . _That weasel, he's always pulling this kind of stuff on me._ In the back of his mind, he remembered an exchange between Kane and Sparks. Sparks had been quite adamant.

***

  
_  
"No, it can't wait another month! I don't care about the ILAR and their blasted policies. We've waited long enough."_

"Sparks, my dear Sparks, things like this take time. The Institute just needs us to hold off on testing until the misfiled lab code can be changed. In the meantime, they just want to look things over."

"It's him! The blasted kid did it. He's always tampering with my data."

"Toby, I highly doubt he was involved. Come on, you know him as well as I do. Do you actually think he has the mental capacity? You've seen the readouts. There's nothing there Toby, not anymore. You need a vacation as much as I do. Why don't we take some time off next month, huh? What do you say we hop a jet over to Salt Lake City and ski some powder?"

"No, damn it, why do you always do this? No waiting and no skiing. I haven't spent 10 years of my life to take off every time stuff gets messy. All I want is for you to sign this paper. Sign this paper and we'll avoid the entire mess. Can you do that? Look, just write your name, I'll take care of the rest. I promise, you won't see any of the paperwork."

"Fine, I'll sign it. I'm not happy about this, Tobias. You know how the Institute can get. If you foul this up, it could be bad. I don't want any loose ends, is that clear?"

"You can count on me, sir."

***

In that instant he knew. Of course it had been rescheduled for today. Either that or the Institute had popped their heads in a day early. He could hear their incessant psycho-babble already.

_And this is the neuro-lab . . . our SEM . . . blah, blah, blah._

Subject KTLR-7 threw a mop at the closet door. Normally, it would have made quite a racket, but the din from the overhead reduced it to a minimal clatter. He let out a yell at the top of his lungs. "Arghhhhhh! Can't hear that, can you?" The siren ignored him. "Can't hear this neither!" A bucket followed the mop's trajectory. It bounced off the door and nearly hit him as it flew back past his head.

Settling against the wall, he tried to gather his thoughts. This would be no different than anything else he'd been thrown into. Only, it was for real this time. He was too valuable to kill, but there were other things worse than death: Starvation. Thirst. Isolation. To be locked in a dark room until the small world around became a kaleidoscope of shadows. These punishments he knew well. Of course the "tests" had been perfectly innocent. The brainchild of Mr. Sparks, ever under the watchful eye of Dr. Thaddeus Kane.

"It's for the good of mankind," he'd been told. "The advancement of science." For 10 years, he'd taken their lies. He'd been brainwashed to think this prison was home. They'd exposed him to every pain, stress, chemical, and fear. Theoretically, he'd come through emotionally stable. To them, his mind was just a labyrinth of codes and chemicals, another simulation and set of data to interpret. If only they knew. His "labyrinth" was a carefully constructed wall of bricks that steeled him against their unceasing terrors. It was the only thing that had kept his mind from shattering when they kept going, despite his desperate cries to stop. That part of him was locked away. The damage would be inestimable if it were unleashed. His mind simply was not capable of handling that level of cataclysm. Not after what it had already been through. If he stayed, he knew his days were numbered. It would only be a matter of time before they found the key. _I am not going to die in a place like this_. He stood up and kicked the mop from its position of guardianship. He had too much to do and sitting in a closet was wasting precious time. KTLR-7 opened the door and headed down the black abyss. If he could just make it to the elevator . . . it would be the first step to freedom.

***

"Uh, what are those alarms?" Chloe stood up, unsure. They were barely audible on the 100th floor, but obviously loud somewhere.

"No need for concern, Ms. Sullivan, a minor quandary. But you'll have to excuse me-I'm terribly sorry."

"Oh, no problem, we were just about finished here anyways." _Thank God._

He reached out to shake her hand. "Ms. Sullivan, it's been a pleasure. A real treat." With that, he picked up his coat and hurried out of the door, leaving a very confused Chloe standing in the middle of it.

"Ms. Sullivan?" It was Grace. "The exit is this way. Can I help you find your way out?"

She could think of a million things to say, but held her tongue. "No, uh, I think I can find it on my own, thanks. It's time I headed back to Smallville." Chloe snatched her purse from the chair and walked towards the elevator.

***

"I want every hall, every door, every entrance blocked. Nobody leaves here without running through security first." Dr. Kane was seething. Not many things could upset him. But this was ridiculous. How could this happen? They'd managed to keep him under control for how many years? They'd even thought he was happy.

"I want every tech on this." He was shouting now. "He is extremely dangerous. We have no idea what he's capable of, especially without the rocks. I repeat he is extremely dangerous." He listened impatiently for a minute. "No, I don't want him dead . . . How many times have I told you before!" He was irate. "He's of no use to us dead. I want him _alive_. Comprende?" He slammed the phone on the desk. Grace stared blankly.

"What are you looking at?" Dr. Kane wheeled around and stormed into the hallway.

  
_**ILAR = Institute of Laboratory Animal Research_


End file.
